This isn’t the day we lose the Lord. This is the day he carries our hopes to heaven.

At the start of Jean Echenoz rsquo s beguiling novel entitled only nbsp 1914 nbsp a young boy named Anthime rides his bicycle on windy hills above his home From there he can see his village and several others Then as abruptly as it had begun the pervasive rumbling of the wind suddenly gave way

Dying from AIDS, a man learns to give and pray.

If Marcus Aurelius had been a wife and a mother he might have written Jenny Offill rsquo s new novel nbsp Dept of Speculation Every vignette is suffused with well wrought insight and wisdom For example ldquo My daughter breaks both her wrists jumping off of a swing rdquo We take our daughter

Eucharist reaches back into history, to the Christ who lived among us. It also reaches forward, to the one yet to be revealed.

Saint Thomas and the disciples weren’t ready for resurrection. They had to be won over by the wonderful.

Sometimes pleasures and joys slide one over the other nbsp They pour so quickly into our lives we begin to believe the cup of blessings can rsquo t run dry nbsp But then some crack appears nbsp The blessing cup becomes hourglass and happiness begins to pour away nbsp nbsp While still a gr

So many in the world are blind, not to know their need for a savior

Religion seeks to make routine that which, by its nature, cannot be captured.

Killing Jesus is a sure and swift read nbsp Bill O rsquo Reilly and Martin Dugard write like newscasters rapidly analyzing facts Here is the entry into Jerusalem Just on the other side of Bethpage the two disciples stand waiting nbsp One holds the bridle of a donkey that has never been ridden